


honeysweet hydrangeas

by atrocities_galore



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Drunken Confessions, First Kiss, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, Internalized Homophobia, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2020-10-06
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:21:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26855860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atrocities_galore/pseuds/atrocities_galore
Summary: and did they want to ruin what had been worked for so long? to abandon it all in the face of two beautiful, scared boys of their own feelings?would it be stupid to say they both wanted it.
Relationships: Mark Fischbach/Ethan Nestor
Comments: 4
Kudos: 124





	honeysweet hydrangeas

**Author's Note:**

> yeah.

“hey, mark?”

words of honeydew and peach, no one would’ve ever thought vodka spoiled that pretty little mouth of ethan’s. no one but the man sitting across from him, who nurses a bottle of water himself.

and yes, mark would’ve been drinking to the celebration of their success at the first chance he got, but he really liked not destroying himself from the inside out, so he let ethan have fun for him. watched as the smaller threw back drink after drink until he was a giggly mess, warm blush spread up from his collarbone as they talked into the night.

it was kind of fun, watching the younger let loose and relax rather than his normal, hardworking self.

there had been a party that they could’ve went to; probably should have, considering it was quite literally for them, but instead the two stayed at mark’s. in the comfort of marble countertops and cream colored walls, they abandoned the idea of seating at a normal surface, slumped against connecting walls with raised knees. maybe it was the familiarity of it all, the nostalgia of their younger selves doing this years ago that brought them here.

but mark quiets down his memories and thoughts, sparing a glance over to the ravenette and hums in response. he forgets sometimes how quiet the house is without sound.

the boy in question pauses, momentarily forgetting what he was going to say as he snatches the taller’s bottle. he takes a sip, savoring the taste of genuinely clear water. he ignores the wandering eyes that just so happen to fall upon his lips. he does a lot of things at once.

he eventually puts it down, wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and tries to pinpoint on of the many racing things that pass by in his head. “i think about us a lot.”

“oh?” mark tenses, it’s unnoticeable to the drunken eye. he ignores the snatched water bottle and averts his eyes, not really knowing himself as to why he is so standoffish. maybe it’s just the atmosphere that’s built up for so long, that resonates and sits low in the air. “well, what about us? we’re pretty fucking weird, eth’.” an addition, because the man isn’t sure how to feel as well.

drumming his fingers across the hardwood, ethan shrugs simply.

he can’t describe really what he had been thinking about.

ever since they’ve met, he’s just felt close to mark. somewhat in the romantic sense, somewhat not. ethan just knows that he’s close with him, that he’d be able to tell him anything and trust him with it. a bond built upon what they think is time, maybe that’s it. maybe it’s just been there all along.

it still takes him a little bit to answer, choosing to simply not hear the deafening silence that enclosed around them.

he ceases his nimble metacarpals, dividing his gaze into the older. “like when i had blue hair, and you called me hydrangea.” he could remember it clear as day; the specific time of when mark reached over and rand his hands through the bright blue shade. when he smiled his lopsided grin and told him he reminded mark of a bush of hydrangeas he had outside.

he wondered if mark still thought of him as beautiful. if his blue color had been the only thing creative about him, if his dyed black still meant the same to everyone else.

absently, ethan reached up and ran his own fingers through the strands. he missed it. “and— and when you always fell asleep with me on call when i was editing. it was—“ he gulps in a breath, eyes now looking back down at the ground. “—i miss it.”

he sounds.. tired?

maybe it was because he was tired of them never talking about the elephant in the room, or them ignoring ethan’s gentle, lingering touches or mark’s lowered and mumbled words.

but the older clears his throat, still avoids eye contact. yet, a singular, faint smile touched at the corners of his sangrene lips. “i kinda miss it too. it was.. nice.” he concedes, sneaking glances over at the boy across from him when he isn’t paying attention. it’s been that way ever since they met.

this apparently frustrates him, ethan furrowing his brows and clasping his shaking hands. “so why don’t you do it anymore?”

and here, it all comes tumbling down.

“it’s like it all stopped on camera.” he lamented, not giving the other a chance to speak out himself. not like he wanted to anyways. “whenever we were alone, you always— you jumped at the opportunity to do all those things but as soon as we were in public. you left me in the dust, as if-“ ethan takes another deep breath, having a hard time putting what he was feeling into words. “as if i was the only one who missed it.”

the silence from earlier returns, but somehow heavier than before. it’s weighted with mark’s unspoken words and what he really wants. maybe a bit of ethan’s anger and longing is in there too, but neither of them could say for sure.

to be truthful, mark misses those moments too. he finds himself reminiscing about calming nights spent with the boy across from him. when he would wrap him up in his arms and fall asleep together after a long day, where no one would question it because the were just really good friends. and yeah; he really fucking missed doing anything with ethan. holding his hand jokingly while they sat up for a recording, feeling the coldness of his palm against his own and grinning at how opposite they were. where had it gone? where did the silly little crush that both of them adopted and protected for ages gone? or had it also died out, became one of their memories to only remember, never experience.

fuck if he knew.

that’s what made everything worse. “i don’t.. fuck, eth’, what do you want me to say to that?” he questioned. and finally dusted the courage off the flower and gained it in order to meet the shorter’s gaze.

“man the fuck up. tell me something, anything about what you’re feeling.” ethan shoots back, words getting less slurred and more emotional as he goes on. he’s leaned forward, pupils dilated from the alcohol and mouth turned downwards in a frustrated frown.

is this even really happening? mark tries to justify what’s happening in any sane way, but it just makes less and less sense as he struggles.

“fine, alright? i miss you, eth’, i miss everything that we were too. i miss calling you my hydrangea, and making you breakfast when we woke up from a late recording. i miss the late night editing sessions, the sharing music through the same pair of headphones. i do, ethan, i thought it was obvious.” he breathed out, feeling the weight of the world be lifted from his shoulders like it was that easy.

“that doesn’t—“ ethan balls his fists up, exhales an angry breath. “—so why can’t we go back? to the way we were?”

“you don’t think i want to?” mark questions, leaning forward as well out of frustration. he’s upset too, he wants to feel ethan again, to tell him all the caring phrases that should’ve been told a long, long time ago.

but there’s just something deep within mark, somewhere where he can’t locate or tell it to shut the fuck up for once. he wants so much, the world in his hands in the form of a pretty boy whose smile could save the world a million times over if it had to, but it’s just a little out of reach. 

ethan doesn’t understand, though. his intoxicated brain refuses to comprehend something as small as an issue that could probably be solved through simple communication. he let out a noise of emotion, glancing away and trying his best to gather everything he wants to say. it’s so hard, translating from brain to mouth in a cohesive manner.

he does his best, breathing in and out deeply before focusing. “then fucking do something about it! tell me, confess or kiss me or banish me; anything is better than just.. radio silence.”

his voice is raised, the silence being drowned out entirely by his mocking worries.

and they both come to the realization and gravity of what he just said, as if coming down to earth as the most alienated species known to the universe. the cosmos were his yelled, drunken disputes and the celestial bodies belonged to the internalizing boy who just wanted to figure out what was real and what was fake.

neither of them were sure at that point.

mark is frozen, still trying to process just exactly what he was supposed to do on that situation. he has the basic understanding that he should probably do one of the things he suggested, but he just can’t. he wants to confess his deepest quarrels and sickness of loving him, tell him about how the only medicine is their being together. he wants ethan as a whole, he just wants him and only him, but his confused, heteronormative mind tells him he’s wrong. that loving another man is bad, that looking at him so carefully and kind right now was just bad.

“fine, if you won’t do it, i will.” the drunken boy mumbled, clambering over and onto the taller’s lap.

ethan is gently cupping the scruff of mark’s cheeks, waiting to be pushed off or yelled at or anything. he’s waiting for the harsh touch of rejection, for their years of hoping and caring to be thrown down the drain at a moments notice.

but there’s none. just mark’s resolve chipping for the final time as he grabs the back of the shorter’s neck, pulling him down and painting chapped lips with vodka kissed ones.

it’s like mark was a wilting flower and ethan was a waterfall cascade of water. too much, not enough, brain glazed over with a picture of his boy in his head. and ethan obviously feel’s the same, gentle thumbs swiping over the older’s cheekbones in a soft, praying manner. mark follows suit, hands falling gently upon the other’s waist; either to ground himself or just occupy them, he wasn’t sure.

didn’t matter, because ethan was pulling back and resting his forehead against the taller’s, breathing out a relieved sigh. mark is too memorable, though, as he leans up and keeps kissing over the younger’s cheeks, nose, lips, jaw. he had what he wanted, and he didn’t want to let go.

“m’sorry, my hydrangea.” he murmurs, accentuating the apology with a kiss to the corner of his mouth. he tries to make up for lost time, for all those years he could’ve been loving him like this.

ethan smiles, just lets the older do as he pleases with a small hum. “you’re forgiven for now, m’guess.”

as if ethan could stay mad at him.


End file.
